Ambush on the Laramie Road
by darspi
Summary: Just what happened to Jess Harper in Season 1, Ep. 15 "The Night of the Quiet Men"?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story is my take on what happened to Jess Harper in S1 Ep. 15, "The Night of the Quiet Men" Aired Dec. 22, 1959. Original Story by John C. Champion, Teleplay by Lee Erwin and Donn Mulally. All text in italics comes directly from the episode. All characters are owned by Revue Studios,maybe. I'm just borrowing them for a time, although I'd really like to take Jess Harper home.

_It was late afternoon and Slim Sherman was unsaddling his horse by the fence, preoccupied with thoughts of what he'd overheard in town, when the sound of an approaching stage caught his attention. Looking up from his task he watched the stagecoach as drew up in front of the house and disgorged two grim faced, armed passengers. The dusty, trail weary outrider rider waved in recognition as he drew up along side the lanky rancher._

_"Hiya Jess." Slim greeted the dark haired cowboy warmly. "I see you brought your artillery with you."_

_Jess glanced over at the armed guards getting off the coach, stretching cramped muscles, all the while alertly scanning the area. He turned back, grinning at Slim. "Yeah. Hey what happened to the place? Looks kinda rundown. What'd ya ever do before I got here?" Jess was looking around the ranch buildings. To him nothing had ever looked better, not in a long time._

_Slim chuckled. "We got by. How was the drive?"_

_Jess grinned widely. "Aw first rate. Got top dollar for every steer. On the way to the bank with the money now." He gestured over to the coach with its armed guards, who were even now clambering back into the vehicle._

_"You need a fresh team into Laramie?" Slim asked looking over at the horses tossing their heads and fidgeting to get going. The animals looked fairly fresh to his knowing eye but he had to ask._

_"Naw the one we got in Cedar Creek's still going strong. What's for supper?" Jess wanted nothing more than to get back to a hot meal and a soft bed. Most especially the soft bed. Dang but he must be getting old if a few weeks on the trail left him exhausted from using the cold hard ground as a mattress._

_"What do you want?" Slim asked with a smile, drawing Jess' attention back to matters at hand._

_"Anything but steak. I had enough beef on that drive to start growing horns." Jess was actually ready to eat anything that wasn't coated with trail dust and might actually be served up hot. All joking aside, trail rations left something to be desired._

_"How about pork and beans?" Slim suggested, grinning. He'd been on enough trail drives to know that home cooking beat out trail grub by a longshot._

_Jess smiled back as he gathered his reins, preparing to head out. "Mmmm That sounds almost good enough to eat. See ya around sundown." It was only twelve miles into Laramie and according to his calculations he should make it there and back before full darkness set in._

_"Alright."_

_Jess turned his horse to follow the stage as it lumbered out of the yard on the final leg of the trip into Laramie. It would be a lot weight off his shoulders once they safely reach town with the strong box and got it to the bank._

_"__Hey Jess?__" __Slim called out to the dark haired cowboy._

_"__Yeah?__" __He replied, spinning his horse around to face where he'd left Slim standing._

_"__Keep your eyes open.__" __The young rancher warned. With what had been happening around Laramie lately, he wanted his friend to be extra careful. He knew Jess was more than able to take care of himself but forewarned is forearmed, in his opinion._

_"__Yeah I'll do that. Both of 'em.__" __Jess whirled__his mount and legged his horse into a lope__to catch the rapidly disappearing stage_, puzzled by his partners parting words. Despite the easy banter between them, Jess could sense that something was off kilter. Maybe something had happened while he was on the trail with the cattle. No matter, he'd find out about it after he got back from town.

Time was getting on and Jess Harper had no desire to be in the saddle any longer than necessary. He'd had his butt plastered to the leather for the better part of three weeks, he was tired of eating dust and staring out between the ears of a horse. He wanted to discharge his duty of escorting the stage carrying the cattle money from the combined drive as soon as possible and get back to home, back to Sherman Ranch and Relay Station.

He snorted to himself as his mount clipped along at a ground eating lope. If'n anyone had ever told him that he'd find hisself a home one day, he'dve laughed in their faces. Jess hadn't known a regular home since he was a teenager. Sure there'd been towns and ranches where he'd hung his hat now and again but those were just places where he'd passed through on his way to somewhere else.

Sherman Ranch had been different. He'd taken a shine to Andy Sherman, younger brother to Slim, and Jonesy who'd been with the Shermans longer than anyone cared to recall. Slim had been the harder sell, not wanting to trust the young drifter with a fast gun and a hair trigger temper around his kid brother. In the end, Slim had offered Jess a job and a place to hang his hat and Jess had stayed, going off now again when the Big Open called to him, but always coming back. That was almost six months and several adventures ago. Jess was just beginning to get comfortable in calling Sherman Ranch home.

His thoughts returned again to Slim's parting words and the worried look in his friend's blue eyes as he caught up with the stage. A lot of the ranchers in the area would lose their livelihood if the money wasn't safely delivered to Laramie, Slim included. Maybe that's what his partner was worried about, the money getting into town.

Jess passed the stagecoach to take his place on point, his sapphire blue eyes sharp for anything that appeared out of the ordinary. He was now very familiar with this part of the country and if there was something wrong he'd know it. He was keenly aware that there were some in Laramie that hadn't trusted him with the job of getting the herd to the cattle buyers and the money back to Laramie. It was sometimes difficult to live down a past that was as, well, colorful as his.

Suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his senses sharpened. His gut was telling him that something wasn't right and he'd not gotten this far in life by ignoring the feeling. They were passing through an area of the Laramie road where the forest drew close, the trees casting long shadows on the road ahead. Jess realized that this section of the road would make them an easy target for an ambush, if'n anybody was planning something. He slowed his mount to draw even with the stage driver and shotgun up on the box.

"Hey Ray!" Jess shouted over the din of galloping horses and rumble of wheels. "Look sharp! If'n there's any trouble I want you to set that team to runnin' and don't stop!"

"Sure Jess!" Ray shouted back in acknowledgment, slapping the lines against the four horses pull the stage. Jess looked over at the man riding shotgun, who nodded wordlessly as he turned his attention back to the road. He dropped back to issue a warning to the men riding inside the coach and then sped up to resume his position on point.

He'd no sooner resumed leading the stage when a sudden crack pierced the air and Jess felt a jerk and then intense pain in his right shoulder. The force of the bullets' impact toppled the dark haired cowboy from the saddle, his head connecting with the ground with a sickening thud. He fought to stay conscious, only barely aware of shouts from the stagecoach as the driver did as ordered and whipped up the horses into a gallop. The combination of the gun shots, the loss of his rider and the smell of blood thoroughly unnerved Jess' horse and the animal quickly turned tail for the safety of home. Instinct driving him to back to where it was familiar and where there was food and the safety of a warm barn.

There were more shots as Jess lay stunned for a moment at the side of the road, blood oozing from the wound in his shoulder. He tried to get up, to get to his horse and go after the coach, but the pain in his head matched the burning in his shoulder and the slightest movement only made it worse. He managed to get up on one knee, cradling his wounded arm but the world started to spin crazily and his vision started to blur at the edges. He could hear the sound of gunfire off in the distance and was stubbornly determined to join the fray. His injured body betrayed him however; his eyes rolled up in head as he collapsed face down on the ground, darkness claiming him.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This story is my take on what happened to Jess Harper in S1 Ep. 15, "The Night of the Quiet Men" Aired Dec. 22, 1959. Original Story by John C. Champion, Teleplay by Lee Erwin and Donn Mulally. All text in italics comes directly from the episode. All characters are owned by Revue Studios,maybe. I'm just borrowing them for a time, although I'd really like to take Jess Harper home. Riding a horse under the influence of alcohol, while not illegal, is not recommended. It's like driving a car under the influence.

Sundown was long past, afternoon having given way to evening and Slim was in the kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee. He was trying to keep himself busy but nothing could distract him from the fact that Jess was overdue from town and that was cause for worry. It hadn't helped that he'd been 'invited' to McCambridge's camp after Jess and the stage had left. Mac and his his rag-tag band of gunmen trying to go straight were creating tension in Laramie. Feelings in the area were running high against Mac and his men, especially after a fellow rancher had been robbed, murdered and his place set fire. This put Slim in uncomfortable position of man in the middle between his friend Mac and his neighbors.

He believed Mac when ex-lawman had denied that he and his boys had any part of murder and robbery of the rancher but circumstances were looking grim since they were now hiding out in the hills. They were acting more like wanted men than the upstanding citizens that Mac claimed they were trying to become. Whoever was framing Mac and his friends, if they were being framed, was doing a bang up job. Slim had to wonder who was using them a convenient scapegoat.

_The sound of fast hoof beats echoed in the yard interrupting his train of thought and he put his coffee down. "Jess?" Slim called out as he opened the kitchen door and stepped out of the house in time to see the flash of a horse entering the barn. Garnering no answer he strode swiftly out to the barn and found Jess' gelding standing in his stall, waiting for dinner, but no sign of his rider._

Tamping down on his rising concern, Slim tried to tell himself that Jess probably had stopped at the saloon and had a few too many, had fallen off in a drunken stupor or been thrown. The problem with either of those theories was the simple fact that Jess drunk on a horse was a heck of a better rider than most men sober. _Slim entered the stall, stroking the bays neck as he started to lift the stirrup to unsaddle the gelding. He stopped abruptly when he noticed something glistening on the saddle horn in the pale light. He stretched tentative fingers to touch the liquid and his fingers came away bloody._

Concern changed rapidly to fear as Slim sprinted for the house to get his gear before swiftly saddling his sorrel to search for his friend. He dreaded what he would find on the Laramie Road but he prayed that he would find Jess alive. Slim worried about what he would tell Jonesy and Andy when they got back from Aunt Ella's if he found Jess dead. He ground down that thought viciously as he spurred his horse forward.

Slim knew if the stagecoach had been ambushed, it wouldn't have happened anywhere close to the ranch or town. The most likely spot was the section of road where it cut through the forest, roughly four miles from the ranch. It was an area that afforded ample cover for gunmen and was far enough from civilization for anyone to hear anything. He fought the urge to move at a faster pace, unwilling to risk laming his horse on the dimly lit road.

Thankfully there was a full moon or Slim would have had a difficult time seeing anything along the road and that would have added time to the search. As Slim entered the forest, the moon cast dappled shadows along the ground forcing him to slow his pace further. He didn't want to miss seeing anything hidden in the shadows along the road, but he chafed at having to slow down.

After what seemed like an eternity Slim spotted what that looked like a bundle of cloth on the side of the road. As he drew closer the bundle turned out to be a body, face down in the grass. _He felt his blood turn to ice as he swiftly dismounted and rushed to fallen man. It was too dim to see if it was Jess but as he got closer his worse fears were realized as he recognized the bloodstained jacket. _

_Kneeling next to his fallen friend, Slim gently rolled the unconscious man over to find blood staining the front of his shirt at the right shoulder. The bullet was a through and through, which was a small blessing, since Doc Hansen wouldn't have to go digging for it. Slim slipped the bandana from around his neck, hoping to staunch the sluggish flow of blood from the wound. He gently lifted the shirt from the wound and pressed the cloth firmly against Jess' shoulder._

_Jess regained consciousness when he felt something pressing painfully against his shoulder. He stirred and opened his eyes, blinking them to find Slim hovering above him, his eyes clouded with worry. _

"_You'll be alright Jess." Slim pressed down firmly on the bandana. "Who did it?" Hoping that Jess saw something or heard something that would lead them to who was responsible for the ambush. _

_Jess shook his head and moved restlessly, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind and get away from the pain. It was making it difficult to concentrate on what Slim was saying. "You must've seen somebody?" The rancher insisted as he withdrew his hand from from the wound._

"_No." Jess __swallowed convulsively against the agony lancing through his head and shoulder. "Last..last thing I remember. A bullet knocked me off my horse. Then you, here." _

"_Are you sure you didn't see anybody?" Slim persisted._ He wanted something, anything that would prove that John McCambridge and his men weren't responsible. With Jess shot from ambush it was a given that the stage was somewhere farther up the road and he knew what he'd find.

"_No." Jess replied weakly. Slim went back to his horse and grabbed his canteen. Jess needed help and as much as Slim hated to do it, he had to leave to get the aid that his friend desperately needed. He also had to confirm that the stage had also been a victim of the __ambush. He returned to Jess' side, where he opened the canteen and propped the container against his friends side. "Try to stay quiet. I'll bring Doc Hansen back as soon as I can." _

_Jess watched in silence as Slim moved quickly to his sorrel and mounted. Their eyes met, briefly. He __could see, even in the dim light, that Slim hated leaving him. Then the young rancher kicked his horse forward and galloped off as Jess weakly tried to sit up._ The pain from the bullet wound and the knot on his head sent the world spinning crazily and he passed out.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This story is my take on what happened to Jess Harper in S1 Ep. 15, "The Night of the Quiet Men" Aired Dec. 22, 1959. Original Story by John C. Champion, Teleplay by Lee Erwin and Donn Mulally. All text in italics comes directly from the episode. All characters are owned by Revue Studios, maybe. I'm just borrowing them for a time, although I'd really like to take Jess Harper to the people who have tagged this story, I'm flattered you are enjoying my first attempt.

His stomach knotted with worry, Slim proceeded down the road as fast as the conditions allowed to fetch help for Jess and to find out exactly what had happened to the stage. Despite his anxiety, he was forced to move cautiously, the moonlight a poor substitute for daylight. Deep shadows patterned the road, effectively masking potential hazards to man and beast.

_It wasn't long before he exited the woods and spied the wreckage of the stage beside the road. The vehicle was laying on its side, obviously having tipped over after hitting the tree that had been dropped almost across the road. Coming along side, he dismounted to survey the area, looking for any sign of survivors and the strongbox they carried._

_He easily spied the driver and shotgun and it was quite apparent that both men were dead. A quick glance into stage showed the other two guards were dead also. Slim turned his attention to the strongbox laying in the road, lock busted off. It was no surprise that he found it empty. Grimly Slim remounted his sorrel and resume his journey to Laramie, anger beginning to burn in his gut._

Needing a distraction, Slim began to mull over everything that had happened in the past few weeks. Instinct told him that Mac and his men were innocent of what had transpired in the valley. Instinct also told him that the troublemakers were closer to home than most everyone thought. He just wished that he had more to work with than just his gut. He needed solid proof that somebody else was behind the murder of the rancher, the ambush of Jess and the robbing of the stage. Without evidence the sheriff couldn't do anything to anyone.

It also bothered Slim that whoever was responsible for the attack knew when to be waiting on the road. That spoke to him of an inside job, because even he hadn't known exactly when Jess and the money were getting back. The only one that knew for sure was Cole Rogers because he had arranged for the stage and the guards. Slim found it difficult to stomach the thought that Rogers was responsible for the ambush or any of the other trouble. Granted he was a gruff, cantankerous old man but he had no reason that Slim could see to take the money.

By the time Slim hit Laramie, most of the town was shutdown for the night. The only light, besides the glow the moon, spilled out from the windows and bat-wing doors of Cattleman's Palace Saloon and from the lamps outside the hotel and the sheriff's office. Slim knew a visit to the sheriff was needed but it would have to wait, he had more pressing business at Doc Hansen's.

The muffled sounds of boisterous laughter drifted down the street from the saloon as he dismounted in front of Doc's residence, which also doubled as his office. Slim's long legs took the stairs two at a time to reach the door. He rang the bell impatiently and when the summons went unanswered, he started pounding smartly on the wood, shaking the door in its frame.

"Just a minute! Just a minute!" The muffled voice of Doc drifted through the wood panels. A moment later the door was flung open and an older man came into view. He was rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"All right what is so all fired important that you have to beat down my door at this hour?" Doc Hansen grumbled as he belted his robe before looking up. "Oh Slim it's you. C'mon in." He gestured for Slim to enter.

"Sorry to wake ya, Doc." Slim removed his hat as he entered the living/waiting room. "I need ya out to the Laramie road. Jess got bushwhacked on the way into town with the stage. He's been shot."

Doc Hansen ran a tired hand through his hair and sighed heavily. "How bad?" He asked as he turned and started for the stairs to his room.

"Bullet went through his shoulder. He lost a lot of blood before I found him." Slim answered as he shifted with restless energy, anxious to get back to his wounded partner.

"Git over to the livery and fetch my buggy while I get dressed." Doc started up to his room. "I'll meet you out front in five minutes."

"Okay." Slim spun around, jamming his hat down on his head. With ground eating strides, he went out the door and down the steps to the street. He grabbed the reins of his horse and headed across the street to the livery, fast, for the rig.

Entering the barn, he struck a match to light the lamp that Charlie usually left hanging on a post. He quickly harnessed a couple of horses and hitched them to a spring wagon. He opened a bale of straw in the bed and spread it out, figuring it would be more comfortable for Jess than the bare planking. Finding a couple of coach lanterns, he made sure they were filled with kerosene and lit them before tying his sorrel to the tailgate and heading back to Doc's house.

Doc Hansen was waiting for Slim when he returned. Along with his medical bag he'd grabbed several blankets and an extra canteen. He looked at the wagon and cocked an eyebrow.

"Doesn't look much like my buggy." He commented, handing Slim the blankets before climbing up into the wagon seat.

"I figured that Jess would be more comfortable in this." Slim replied as he took the proffered blankets and set them in the back of the wagon. When Doc was settled he slapped the reins and the team set off at a fast trot.

They journeyed in silence, Slim chewing on the puzzle of who was responsible for all the trouble while Doc seemed to have fallen into a doze. He kept circling back to who knew when the stage was expected to be coming into Laramie. Somebody knew when the stage was expected in town and knew where to be waiting to ambush it. He thought back to all the dust ups that Cole Rogers' cowhands, Ames and Brodie, had with Mac and his men over the last weeks.

Ames had made it known around town, to anyone who'd listen, that he was upset about being left out of the cattle drive and losing out on the bonus that went with it. Though a top hand, he was also loudmouthed bully with poor judgment and even worse impulse control. His buddy Brodie was a coward who talked a good game but let someone else, usually Ames, do all the work.

Though it seemed improbable to Slim, Ames and Brodie had been sticking close to their boss while his segundo was ramrodding the cattle drive. He'd seen and heard enough of the two cowhands to now think twice about them and their motives. Cole Rogers might have said something, whether intentionally or not, in front of them or they might have overheard him talking about when the money was coming back to Laramie. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that one or both men were involved.

Slim was prevented from further rumination by their arrival at the site of the wrecked stage. Doc roused from his slumber as Slim slowed the horses so they could maneuver their way carefully around the wreckage.

"Slim, stop." Doc ordered as he spied the coach laying on its side. He was ready to give any aid needed to the injured.

"Won't do any good, Doc. Everyone's dead." Regret colored the young rancher's voice as he thought of the lives wasted by the greed of other men.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Shot. All of 'em." Slim looked at Doc Hansen who nodded sadly. "We'll get to Jess in a few minutes, he's about a quarter mile beyond this."

Slim could only hope that Jess hadn't gotten any worse in the time it had taken him to get to Laramie and back. He clucked to the team.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4.

* * *

Quiet Men" Aired Dec. 22, 1959. Original Story by John C. Champion, Teleplay by Lee Erwin and Donn Mulally. All characters are owned by Revue Studios, maybe. I'm just borrowing them for a time, although I'd really like to take Jess Harper home.

* * *

Thanks to those of you who have added this story to their watch list and left reviews. I wasn't sure that anybody was paying attention since "Laramie" isn't as popular as some of the other shows.

Jess came awake with a sudden jerk that sent pain slicing through his shoulder and his head spinning. He sucked in a breath, trying to keep the nausea at bay as the injury settled down to a throbbing ache. It was readily apparent that he was still alone and he relaxed slightly, his attention momentarily distracted by the more immediate need for water.

He appreciated the fact that Slim had left the canteen but drinking from it when flat on you're back presented a challenge. Sighing in resignation he lifted the container, attempting to take at least a sip but he only succeeded in spilling its precious contents down his throat and the front of his shirt. Some seeped under the bandana at his shoulder and he hissed as it oozed into the wound, stinging as it met the torn flesh. He pinned the canteen against his right side and capped it carefully, not wanting to risk spilling anymore.

Taking stock of his situation Jess lifted his head, searching for something nearby that maybe he could sit against or at least prop himself up on so that he could take a drink. It would also afford him a way to keep watch on the road.

On his right was the river; not an option and he knew that on this left was the road. He didn't think he'd have enough strength to get across to the trees on the other side. Looking between his feet he spied a log it looked too far away to manage. His thirst was growing in intensity as he rolled up to his left shoulder, biting back a groan that the movement engendered. Twisting his head he saw a young tree behind him that might suit his purpose.

Deciding that it was close enough, Jess carefully looped the canteen strap over his right wrist and levered himself up,using his left elbow, painfully inched his way to the tree. Each move was intensely painful, leaving him breathless. By the time he managed to drag his aching body to the tree and push himself into a sitting position, his head was spinning, his breathing ragged and his body soaked with sweat.

Leaning against the tree, it took some effort to remove his revolver from its holster and place it in his lap, just in case. He was more than capable of shooting left-handed, experience having been a hard task were varmints that only came out at night, of both the two and four footed kind, and he was going the be sure they thought twice about bothering him until help arrived.

Satisfied that he could keep watch on the road, he was now in a position to make better use of the canteen but he couldn't seem to muster the energy necessary to open it. He lifted a trembling hand to check the bandana at his shoulder and his fingers came away wet, which meant the wound was bleeding freely again. Okay maybe this hadn't been such a good idea he thought as his vision started to tunnel and darkness claimed him once more.

Jess awoke sometime later, unsure of how much time had passed. It was dark and but the moon was still up, causing the trees to cast dark shadows on the thought that he probably hadn't been out very long.

He tried swallowing and felt his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. He needed water desperately. Pulling on the strap attached to the canteen, he dragged it to within his reach and uncapped it carefully. Lifting it to his lips with a shaking hand, he drank deeply, letting the tepid liquid flow down his parched throat. The canteen too soon grew heavy in his hand and he was forced to put it down before he dropped it.

* * *

Jess' mind started to drift as he waited for the promised help to was warm and chilled in turn, the cool dampness of the river chilling his sweat soaked skin. A couple of times he tried checking his wound and thought maybe it had stopped bleeding, but he couldn't be sure. He tried taking another drink but could no longer find the strength to lift the canteen to his lips. He concentrated instead on listening to the sounds of the night, waiting for the rattle of Doc's buggy and the clip clop of horse's hooves, but all he could hear was the ragged sound of his own breathing.

It was with a heavy heart that John McCambridge rode toward Sherman Ranch. His attempt to provide a new beginning for his men had failed, again and this time the failure could cost a friend his reputation in Laramie. Worse still, the men he'd convinced to joined this quixotic endeavor were now on the run.

Mac and his men had heard the echoing gunshots when the stage had been attacked but they had arrived too late to stop it. All they found the were a wrecked coach, the corpses of four men and an empty strongbox in the road.

Despite his best attempts, Mac was unable to convince Kurt and the others to stay. They were being set up and none of them wanted to be around when the sheriff's posse showed up on their doorstep. Running would make them look even more guilty but staying could get them killed or force them to kill.

Deep down Mac didn't blame them for leaving. Their desperation to start a new life, to change what they'd been, to become something other than the reputations that had defined them had lead these men here. They'd believed in him and his dream when he offered them a last chance at leading a life not defined by their prowess with a gun. Now circumstances seemed to deny them the chance to start fresh.

Mac couldn't leave Laramie with saying good-bye to Slim and offer some sort of apology to the young rancher for causing the problems that put him in the middle of the whole blasted mess. If he knew Slim like he thought he did, Mac knew that he'd try to give him the lease money back. He knew that he'd have to refuse, it was the only way he knew to repay Slim for the trouble he and his men had inadvertently caused.

* * *

Mac's ruminations were interrupted when his attention was drawn to something a little ways up the road. In the dim light filtering through the trees, he was hard pressed to make out what exactly it was until he drew closer and was able to distinguish the outline of a man sitting under a small tree then he heard the ominous sound of a hammer being cocked.

The slow cadence of a walking horse slowly encroached on Jess's attention. He couldn't discern the accompanying rattle of a wagon or buggy, which started him to worry. He slipped his left hand around the grip of the revolver he'd placed in his lap, thumbing the hammer and resting his finger loosely on the trigger. The click of rotating cylinder seemed to reverberate loudly in the small clearing and Jess heard the horse stop. He peered into shadows of the road but the moonlight couldn't reach into the depths where the rider had reined up.

He could hear the creak of saddle leather and knew the rider had stepped down from his horse.

"Whoever ya are, jes keep on movin'. I gotta an iron pointed right at yer belly." Jess called out huskily as he kept his eyes on where he thought the rider would be. The pain in his head caused his vision to blur and waver and his gun to wobble slightly.

"Take it easy son." A voice called from the darkness. "I'm just passin' by. Looks like you could use some help."

"Got some comin'." Jess snapped sharply. He didn't recognize the voice and sure wasn't going let some stranger anywhere near him. Could be one of the bushwhackers coming back to make sure the job was done.

Leading his horse, the stranger continued his slow approach. He knew that a wounded man could be just as dangerous as a wounded wild animal and just as unpredictable. He also knew that he couldn't just pass by a man who was obviously in trouble, if the dark stain at the man's shoulder was any proof.

"I said keep on movin', mister." Jess growled as the man and his mount stopped in a patch of moonlit road. From what he could see, if his head and eyes would cooperate, the man was older and standing easy in the road, his hand staying well away from the gun resting at his hip.

From where John McCambridge stood, he recognized the injured young man as the same one he saw with Slim in Laramie several weeks before. The way they'd ridden into town together, John had figured them to be friends, a fact later confirmed by the rancher.

"Jess Harper isn't it?" Mac didn't miss the look of surprise that flashed in the younger man's face.

"How do ya know me? I don't recall ever seein' ya before." Jess was still pointing the gun at the man standing in the road, puzzled at not recognizing him.

"Saw you ride into town with Slim Sherman a couple of weeks back. He told me you worked for him." John dropped the reins of his horse, ground tying the animal. He took another easy step forward. "Name's John McCambridge. Used to be marshal over to Dodge City. Maybe Slim's mentioned me?"

"Can't say he has. " Perspiration was beginning to run in tiny rivulets down Jess' face, getting into his eyes. The tremors were getting more pronounced, making it difficult to maintain a steady bead on the man calling himself John McCambridge.

Jess had heard of the former marshal but had never made his acquaintance. The only time he'd passed through Dodge, Matt Dillon was the law and Jess had been disinclined to incur the interest of the man. "How d'ya know Slim?"

"Slim's pa and I were friends. I've known Slim, Andy and Jonesy for years." Mac replied easily, keeping a close eye on Jess and the gun wavering in his hand.

"Yeah. Well. I don't know if'n you are who you say you are so you kin jes get back on yer horse and ride." Jess croaked out the order. He bit down hard on another wave of pain as perspiration started to sting his eyes.

Mac was now facing a bit of a quandary. Harper had no way to verify the truth of what he said and it was obvious that the young man had been around long enough to be deeply suspicious of strangers, especially now. He had to come up with someway to prove to Harper that he was a friend of Slim's. Then he recalled a snippet from Slim's story of how Jess arrived at Sherman Ranch.

"I don't think that Slim appreciated you teaching Andy how to deal from the bottom of the deck."

Jess flinched in surprise. Nobody but he, Slim, Andy and Jonesy knew about that little incident when he'd arrived at the ranch looking for Pete Morgan. Slim had tried to take his head off for doing it but they'd never said anything about it to anyone else. The only way that John McCambridge could have been privy to the information was if Slim or one of the others had told him.

"Listen you need help. Quit bein' so dang ornery and understand that I'm not one of the bushwhackers that attacked you and the stagecoach!" With that declaration Mac very slowly released the rawhide tie down on his holster with his left hand, keeping his right hand well away from the gun at his hip. Then he unbuckled the gun belt and lifted it away. Stepping back to where his horse was patiently waiting, he draped the rig across the seat of his saddle. His eyes never leaving Jess's as he walked toward the young man, hands held away from his body.

"See? I'm now unarmed." Mac approached Jess cautiously, mindful of the gun that the young man held in his shaking hand. Fortunately for the ex-marshal this was Jess's working rig and therefore had a slightly less hair trigger than his 'other' gun, which Slim had made him hide in the hollow side of the fireplace mantle not long after he'd gone to work for the rancher.

It was a struggle for Jess to allow the man to approach, even unarmed. He'd seen too much and done too much to trust easily and being wounded in ambush didn't help. He watched as the former marshal came nearer, offering no further protest. He was hurting and bone tired and all of sudden didn't care anymore. He released the hammer gently and dropped the gun along side his leg.

"Well Mr. McCambridge, since there are only three others that know about me teachin' Andy how to spot a cheat, I guess you're a friend of Slim's." There was a decidedly resigned tone in Jess's voice as the man in question knelt beside him.

"My friends call me Mac." He replied as he reached over for the canteen and put it to Jess's lips. The injured man drank the lukewarm liquid greedily until he felt he'd had enough.

Now that Mac was close up to the wounded man, the pallor that he'd chalked up to the moonlight was much more pronounced. Mac was worried that Slim's friend was in worse shape than he thought. He could see the sheen of perspiration on his skin and feel the heat pouring off his body

"Didn't know we was friends." Jess declared when his thirst was satiated and the canteen was put moved restlessly as Mac tried to examine the wound in his shoulder.

"Slim told me you and he were friends, so that's good enough for me." Mac took a clean bandana from his back pocket. "This might hurt some," he said in way of apology as he shifted Jess forward slightly and lifted the neck of his jacket, pressing the folded square of cloth tightly against the exit wound.

Jess groaned through tightly clenched teeth as the clearing spun and tilted. He fought the urge to vomit, forcing the rising bile back as Mac released the pressure on the wound. He felt himself eased back against the tree and glanced at the man. "Yeah, it hurt some."

Mac chuckled wryly at the rejoinder before sobering. "You said help was coming, any idea when?" From what he could see, Jess had lost a considerable amount of blood and hauling him to Sherman Ranch on horse back would likely make it worse, likely even kill him.

"Dunno. Passed out a couple 'o times. K.k.k..k..kinda lost track. S.s. went to f.f.. Doc from t.t.t..town." Jess teeth chattered as another round of chills assailed his body. He hoped to heck that Slim was on his way back with Doc and soon.

Mac levered himself up and walked back to where his horse was waiting in road. Reaching behind the saddle he undid his bedroll and grabbed his gun belt. Grabbing the reins he led his mount out of the middle of the road and tethered him close to where Jess lay. After he buckled on his gun he shook out the canvas and blanket and tucked around the shivering man.

Jess turned his weary gaze on the ex-marshal. "Thanks." he mumbled softly as pain and blood loss took their toll once more and he slipped back into oblivion.

Mac was alarmed at first but after observing the regular rise and fall of Jess' chest he decided to hunker down and wait. And watch.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5.

* * *

This story is my take on what happened to Jess Harper in S1 Ep. 15, "The Night of the Quiet Men" Aired Dec. 22, 1959. Original Story by John C. Champion, Teleplay by Lee Erwin and Donn Mulally. All characters are owned by Revue Studios, maybe. I'm just borrowing them for a time, although I'd really like to take Jess Harper home.

The moon was beginning to wane, casting the road deeper into shadow as Slim and Doc Hansen left the wrecked stage behind. The thickening darkness forced Slim to keep the team to a slow pace, even with the coaching lanterns doing their best to illuminate their way. His worry for was increasing Jess but his hands were sure and steady on the lines guiding the horses along.

"How much farther?" Doc inquired as he peered up the road, trying to discern something in the deepening gloom.

"I figured about a mile from where Jess was ambushed to where the varmints finally stopped the stage." Slim replied without taking his eyes off the road and the horses. He bet that Jess had warned the driver to run if anything suspicious happened, which would explain the distance between where he'd been bushwhacked and the where the stage had been stopped.

* * *

"Should be coming up soon." Slim continued as he concentrated on the road, his blue eyes watching intently for the spot where he'd left his wounded friend.

It was the sudden snort from his horse that alerted Mac to the approach of someone or something on the road shortly before he saw the lantern lights or heard the rattle of wheels on the rutted path. He eyed the trail warily from where he sat keeping watch over the restless man next to him. It stood to reason that Slim and the doctor were approaching. If it was someone up to a nefarious purpose, there wouldn't be coach lanterns lighting their way. Truth be told it would be unlikely they'd be traveling by wagon either. His attention was distracted from the road when Jess started to wake from his fretful slumber.

It was the rattle of wagon wheels that roused Jess from the uneasy stupor into which he had fallen. After a split second of confusion, he fumbled left-handed for his revolver until his finger hovered on the trigger. He fought to clear the weapon of the blanket that was determined to tangle itself with the gun. A strong hand clamped down on his, arresting the movement. "Easy son. Let's see who's coming before we start shooting" said the low voice in his ear.

Jess looked over at the man squatting next to him, momentarily bewildered until his sluggish memory caught up with recent events. He relaxed slightly as he recalled the man next him was a friend of Slim's. Mac released his grip as he saw the confusion replaced with recognition.

"It's probably Slim coming back with the doc." Mac surmised but it didn't prevent his own hand from moving towards the gun at his hip. Despite his pain and fever Jess didn't miss the surreptitious motion, watching as the man slipped the trigger loop off the Colt at his side. The ex-marshal man caught the look and smiled tightly. "Can't be too careful though and I haven't stayed alive this long by being careless." Mac stood and quietly moved a few paces away, concealing himself behind a tree.

Jess nodded slightly in understanding as they waited for the wagon to get closer. He slowly and carefully eased his revolver from under the blanket, letting it nestle snugly in his hand. It offered him some measure of comfort in a situation that had been long out of his control. He bent his head to wipe the perspiration beading his face on the sleeve of his dusty jacket, sending another jolt of pain through his shoulder as Mac's horse whinnied at the approaching team. One of the newcomers answered, causing the driver to pull to a stop while they were still a fair distance away.

Slim was instantly alert when one of his team answered the greeting of another horse. He halted the wagon immediately, squinting at the road ahead. There was the barely discernible outline of a horse tied beside the road, right where he was sure he'd left Jess earlier. He handed the lines over to Doc. "Stay here while I check this out."

Doc merely grunted in agreement, taking the proffered lines as Slim stepped down from the rig, releasing the loop on the trigger of his revolver with his right hand as he unhooked a lantern from the wagon with his left. He walked slowly forward, keeping the bulk of the team between him and whatever and whoever was up ahead for as long as possible.

"Jess?" He called out, hoping that his friend was conscious and able to answer. He stopped before clearing the team, lantern held high.

Jess' finger relaxed on the trigger at the sound of the familiar voice. "Yeah." Jess sighed with relief as he recognized the voice in the dark. He eased the hammer back, dropping the revolver into his lap. If he'd been thinking straight, he would've known that the brightly lit rig had no villainous purpose being on the road and certainly meant them no harm.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. You bring Doc?"

"Yeah. Who belongs to the horse?" Slim scanned the immediate area, alert for anything that seemed out of place.

"It's mine." Mac interrupted as he stepped out from behind the tree where he'd hidden, returning his gun to its holster. He moved to where Jess lay against the tree.

"Mac! What are you doing here?" Slim's surprise was mixed with suspicion at the appearance of his friend, considering all that had occurred in the past few hours. He gestured to Doc to move the team forward as he hastened toward where the men were.

"'Bout time, partner." Jess mumbled tiredly as Slim's long legs covered the short distance between them. He knelt beside Jess, holding the lantern high. The illumination accentuated the pallor of his friend, which alarmed him. Doc exited the wagon made his way quickly to the opposite side, all business now that he'd reached his patient.

"Well Harper, let's see what kind of trouble you got yourself into this time." Doc said brusquely as he lowered himself stiffly next to the injured man.

"Weren't n.. 'o my doin', Doc." Jess countered with a grimace as Doc set his medical bag down, peering to get a closer look at his patient. "Slim, bring the lamp nearer. I need to get a closer look at things." he ordered.

The rancher did as he was commanded while the doctor poked, prodded and peered. He found the lump from where Jess's head had hit the ground, but it was just a bruise and hadn't split the skin. When Doc found Slim's bandana, now soaked with blood, over the shoulder wound he looked askance at the blonde man, who only shrugged.

Slim was more than interested in the how of Mac's got to be on the road with Jess but now was neither the time nor the place for questions. His immediate attention needed to be with his injured friend, questions could wait awhile. He spared a brief glance at Mac who only offered him a half-smile and a shrug.

"Slim, what about the s..s...stage?" Jess questioned, looking at his friend as Doc continued his examination. Slim ducked his head, as if to avoid answering. He wouldn't be getting the sight of the four dead men out of his head any time soon. "D.d...dead?" Jess pressed as Slim looked up, nodding shortly. "All of 'em?" When no answer was forthcoming, Jess closed his eyes wearily. "Yeah I was 'f..f..fraid of that. M... must be g...g..gone too."

"Yeah, it's gone." Slim confirmed quietly.

Slim watched as Jess seemed to shut down after that. He bore the doctor's examination more or less stoically, only reacting when Doc leaned him forward to study the exit wound. Between the shift in position and Doc cutting part of both jacket and shirt open, he couldn't bite off the groan that escaped his lips. Slim flinched at the sound.

Opening his medical bag, Doc rummage around in it until he found what he was looking for. "Here, hold on to these. I want to bind up that shoulder before we move him." He shoved several folded pieces of cloth and a tightly rolled length of bandage into Slim's hands before turning his attention back to his patient. "Jess, this is gonna hurt a mite but I gotta bind ya up tight. Gotta stop you from leaking any more blood 'til I can stitch ya up." Mac stood up, quietly taking the lantern from Slim.

Jess turned pain filled eyes toward the doctor. "Jes do it and quit yer jawin'." He turned his gaze toward Slim, his sapphire eyes locking with the lighter blue ones of his friend as Doc took the cloths from Slim and began bandaging the shoulder wound tightly. Slim kept his eyes locked with Jess's as the young wrangler bore the treatment in silence. The only evidence of the pain was the ashen color of his face, the perspiration that slicked his skin and the increased pace of his breathing.

After what seemed like hours to Jess but in reality was only a few minutes Doc settled his patient back and looked at Slim. "Well let's get our young friend outta here so I can see to the wound proper."

Slim eyed Jess as he rested, eyes closed, against the tree, spent from Doc's treatment. Tremors wracked his body while fresh perspiration dampened his skin. "Will he make it to town?" He looked at Doc in the flickering light of the lantern still held by Mac.

Doc leaned back and looked frankly at the rancher, knowing that the road back to town would take longer and would jostle the young cowboy much more that he'd like. "I'd like to take him to yer place, Slim. It's closer and won't jar his shoulder quite so much. He's lost a lot of blood 'n I don't think he could stand to lose much more."

Truth be told Doc Hansen was worried about the fever Jess seemed to have developed. He'd felt the heat radiating from his patient, felt the tremors as he shivered in the chilled air and observed the flush that dusted his cheeks, despite his patient's obvious pallor. Exposure, exhaustion from the cattle drive and the length of time it took for help to arrive were all conspiring against the dark haired Texan.

"Then Sherman Ranch it is." Slim replied decisively as he unfolded his lanky frame and stood. He held out his hand to the older man and Doc Hansen took it gratefully as he stiffly got to his feet. "I'm gittin' too old fer this." He muttered under his breath as he bent down to get his medical bag.

Slim chuckled mirthlessly. "Mac, give Doc the lantern and help me get Jess into the wagon." Mac nodded as he handed the sawbones the lantern.

"C'mon Jess. Time to get you home." Slim bent to his friend, taking hold of his good arm while Mac went around to the other side to take hold of his belt. They both knew that moving the injured man was going to be painful for him but there was no way to avoid it.

At Slim's words Jess looked up, peering at him through bleary eyes, the words barely registering in his pain fogged brain. He felt Slim take his arm, the ex-marshal grab his belt and braced himself for the what he knew was coming next. He must have faded out for a minute because next he knew, he was half walking, half being dragged over to the wagon. Jess tried to fight the pull of of oblivion but the white hot pain searing his shoulder and blood loss were too great to fight and he slipped quietly into unconsciousness.

Somehow Slim and Mac, between them, managed to get Jess settled comfortably in the back of the straw filled wagon. Though he had mercifully passed out, it took a fair amount of muscling to finally get the injured man settled, with Doc climbing in the bed to ensure that the bindings around the wounds remained tight and no additional hemorrhaging had occurred. They tucked a couple of blankets around Jess to keep him warm for the trip to the ranch.

Mac jumped from the wagon, followed closely by Slim. "Mac, can you follow us to the ranch? I need to talk to you." Slim looked at his old friend closely in the dim glow cast by the lantern that Doc Hansen had put up on the seat.

"I wanted to talk to you too, Slim." Mac replied somberly meeting the younger man's steady gaze before turning and waiting for the doctor to make himself comfortable in the wagon, where he'd climbed to keep an eye on his patient.

Slim fastened the tailgate, checking that his horse was still tied tightly to the rig and moved around to climb into the seat while he waited for Mac to fasten the lantern to the wagon and mount his horse.

"Ready Doc?" The young rancher asked.

"Yeah." Came the curt reply from behind as Slim slapped the reins over backs of the team and they started on the road toward home.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

* * *

This story is my take on what happened to Jess Harper in S1 Ep. 15, "The Night of the Quiet Men" Aired Dec. 22, 1959. Original Story by John C. Champion, Teleplay by Lee Erwin and Donn Mulally. All characters are owned by Revue Studios, maybe. I'm just borrowing them for a time, although I'd really like to take Jess Harper home.

* * *

Happy 80th Birthday Robert Fuller

The trip back to the ranch afforded Slim no time to think as he need to keep a close eye on the road, urging the horses as fast as he dared along it's rapidly darkening length. The coaching lanterns did their best to penetrate the deepening gloom but their illumination was scant at best. It took all his concentration and attention to ensure they all arrived at the ranch in one piece. It was certainly no time for the distraction of planning a trap to catch those he suspected were responsible for injuring Jess and killing the armed escort on the stagecoach.

When they finally arrived at the ranch the moon was close to setting and night had become darker than pitch, making it difficult for anyone to discern the familiar bulk of house and barn. Well familiar with his ranch and its surroundings, Slim had no trouble navigating the wagon to hitching rail at the front door. It had been fortunate that the young rancher had take the precaution of leaving a lamp burning low in the kitchen window, its dim glow flickering through the window a welcome sight to the weary group.

Jess roused slightly as Slim drew the horses up in front of the ranch house. "W..w.w..here are we?" He questioned hoarsely, his words slurred from pain. Though he had wakened several times during the trip he had no recollection of it. He heard the rustling of straw next to him and felt more than saw someone next to him in the wagon.

Doc Hansen swore under his breath as he heard the pain roughened voice of his patient. He had hoped that Jess would stay under long enough for him to clean and stitch the wounds. It would be easier on the young man if he remained unaware of what was happening for as long as possible.

"We're home, partner." Slim replied quietly, turning in the seat to look down at his stricken friend. "Hang on an' we'll get you in the house in two shakes." He jumped down from seat, tying the team to hitching rail then walked rapidly around to untie his horse before letting letting the tailgate down.

"Doc why don't ya' get in the house and light more lamps whilst Mac and I get Jess inside." Slim suggested as he offered the older man assistance in getting out of the wagon bed once he had his horse retied to rail.

"Certainly Just you take it easy on getting Jess into the house. I don't want the bleeding to get any worse." Doc responded brusquely, waving off Slim's silent offer of assistance as he clambered slowly out of the wagon and started stiffly into the ranch house.

Slim turned back to where his friend lay quietly in the wagon. Mac came around from the other side where he'd tied his horse the hitching rail and, unasked, pulled the blankets covering Jess aside.

They jumped into the wagon bed and began to ease the young Texan from his comfortable bed of straw in its confines. Jess tried to bite back a groan as the men removed him from the wagon and Slim assisted him as gently as possible into the ranch house. Doc had already lit most of the kerosene lamps in the main room and was in the midst of clearing the large refectory table used to feed passengers from the stage line when Slim entered the room with the injured cowboy. It wouldn't be the first time that the surface would be used as a makeshift operating table and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Mac followed close behind with the blankets from the wagon.

"Slim, bring him over here and get him up on the table." Doc directed as he headed to the kitchen stove to stoke the dying fire in the firebox.

Slim had bore most of Jess's weight into the house as the half-conscious wounded cowboy was barely able to support himself. He was maneuvered as gently as possible onto the table, only dimly aware when Doc appeared to cut the pressure dressings away. It alarmed Slim greatly to feel the tremors that continued to wrack Jess' frame.

Between the three men they dispensed with Jess' bloodied jacket, vest, shirt and undershirt before fresh padding was applied to the wounds until Doc was ready to begin cleaning and dressing them. Finally the wounded man was allowed to lay down, with blankets tucked securely around to keep him warm until it came time to treat him.

"Slim, I'll need boiling water and any extra bandages that Jonesy has stashed away. Also, pull the kitchen table here." The doctor pointed to the spot perpendicular to operating table before he turned and went back out to the wagon to fetch his medical bag.

"Mac, could you see to the horses?" Slim asked as he went to the kitchen and set a large pot of water to boil, adding more wood to the stove as well. Deciding that coffee would be helpful Slim put the pot that he'd made earlier on the other burner to warm before he rushed to do the grizzled doctor's bidding.

"Be happy to, Slim." Mac answered as he turned on his heel and headed through the great room. He couldn't help but notice how pale Jess looked under the warm light of the lanterns in the room, the fever flushed cheeks providing a stark contrast. He exited the house, meeting the sawbones on his way back in. He only hoped the doctor wasn't like some with title that ended up being little more than butchers.

"Water's on to boil and there's coffee's warming." Slim announced as Doc came back into the house with his medical bag. Without acknowledging Slim, Doc began to removed various instruments, bottles and jars from his bag, laying them on the kitchen table.

"You gotta clean table cloth or pillowcase handy?" Doc asked without looking up from his task. "I'll need something clean to put my instruments on once they've been sterilized. Mind you whatever it is, must be clean!"

Doc Hansen may have been a small town doctor but he kept up with advances in medicine and was one of a few medical practitioners who ascribed to Drs. Lister and Pasteur's work and theories of antiseptic surgery and microbes*. He'd been a battlefield doctor in the War of Northern Aggression** and had seen too many men survive surgery only to die later of wound putrefaction due to the unsanitary conditions.

Doc spared a glance at his patient as Slim headed into the bedroom for the extra linen. He found himself looking straight into a pair of pain clouded blue eyes that studied him intently.

"N..n..n..no mor.r..rphine. No l..l..l..laudanum." Jess managed to rasp out. He'd made it a habit of refusing the palliatives during his years on the drift because they left him too vulnerable. He'd usually managed with a couple of shots of whiskey before letting anyone dig a bullet out of his hide or set a broken bone.

Doc arched an eyebrow at his patient. "Really young man? Who's the doctor here, you or me?"

"Don' c..c..care. Don' wan' it. Don' n..n..need it." Jess slurred stubbornly.

"Listen, Harper. What I have to do take care of that hole in your shoulder is going to be exceedingly painful and requires you, the patient, to remain quiet and still during the procedure. The morphine is going help you relax and dull some of the worst of it." Doc argued as he started to prepare a syringe.

"N..n..nuthin' doin'. W..w..whiskey..be fine." Jess insisted implacably as he grew agitated moving restlessly as he saw what Doc Hansen was doing. He tried to get off the table but Doc jumped up quickly to prevent it with firm but gentle pressure on his chest. This only served to increase his agitation and he started to fight the doctor.

"Harper! Settle down you're going to start bleeding again." Doc grunted as a wild fist glanced off his ear.

"S..s..s..said no morphine!" Jess growled back, his anxiety causing an adrenaline spike that gave him the strength to fight the older man.

Slim, having heard the ruckus, rushed into the room to find the doctor struggling with his very distraught patient. Jess, for the most part, seemed to be winning the fight despite his wounds. He was almost falling off the table by the time Slim moved to intervene.

"Ease off, Jess!" The rancher exclaimed harshly as he jumped to assist the older man. He placed a firm hand on Jess' good shoulder as the injured man continued to buck and resist the good doctor attempts to calm him down. He managed to maneuver himself to block

his injured friend from coming completely off the makeshift operating table.

"Jess! Stop it! Look at me!" Slim implored the frantic man. It was alarming to the young rancher to feel the heat radiating from his friend's body and to see the deep flush that colored his pale face. "C'mon Jess, settle down."

"S..s..s..slim?" The sound of a familiar voice broke through Jess' fevered struggles against the doctor and his dreaded morphine. He squinted, trying to bring Slim's face into focus. "D..d..don't let 'im …. m...m..morphine." Jess' thrashing about began to ease as the sudden adrenaline spike tapered off and exhaustion set in. The fight drained out of him and his eyes closed briefly.

"All right. All right." Slim relaxed his grip slightly and moved to get Jess settled back on the table. "How about tryin' some of Jonesy's 'medicinal' whiskey?" He asked with a pointed look at Doc Hansen who was still holding the syringe of morphine. The doctor abruptly placed it on the table, grumbling under his breath about stubborn, recalcitrant cowboys not knowing what was good for them.

"F...f..fine." Jess answered softly, too tired now to fight.

"How 'bout it Doc?" Slim arched an eyebrow at the good doctor.

"I'd much rather he have the morphine. It'll be easier on him in the long run." The way that his patient was now behaving, the doctor could have pressed the issue but then again young Harper had a way of surprising people. Doc undid the dressings on the wounds and found them bleeding again, as he had feared. "You best fetch that bottle quick, Slim. He's bleeding again."

While Slim hustled into the bedroom for Jonesy's 'medicinal' whiskey, Doc began to staunch the flow of blood from the exit wound, the more grievous of the injuries to the young man on the table.

The young rancher returned quickly with the nearly full bottle of Kentucky bourbon that Jonesy kept stashed in a pair of old boots. Uncorking it he managed, with Doc's help, to coax Jess into a half seated position then proceeded to get about half its contents into the man. Then they settled him back down to wait for the alcohol to take effect. Slim knew that it would take more than the half bottle of whiskey for Jess to be drunk enough to pass out. The best they could hope for was that it was enough to numb the pain.

By that time the water was boiling merrily on the stove and Doc Hansen began his preparations to clean and stitch the wounds. Instruments and basins were sterilized with carbolic acid and a small basin of water set aside to cool, to which the doctor also added carbolic acid.

"He's as ready as he can be." Doc announced after checking the consciousness level of his stubborn patient. He wasn't happy that Jess was still semi-conscious but hesitated to delay treatment any longer. "Help me roll him so I can work."

Jess was gently positioned on his uninjured side to give the doctor better access to exit wound. "Here, have Harper bite down on this and don't let him move." Doc handed Slim a tightly rolled section of bandage.

Slim pulled up a chair and sat, placing the cloth between his friend's lips. "Okay Jess you heard the Doc. If the pain gets too bad, bite down hard and don't move!" He peered earnestly into the weary blue eyes of his young friend.

Jess managed a slight nod, gripping the edge of the table tightly with his right hand as the odor of carbolic began permeate the room. He could hear as Doc dipped a clean cloth into the antiseptic laced water and began to clean the torn flesh where the bullet had exited his shoulder.

It felt like the doctor had taken a branding iron to his shoulder when the carbolic entered the wound. Jess couldn't stifle the groan that escaped his throat from intense pain and he bit down hard on the cloth between his teeth. A sheen of fresh perspiration slicked his skin as the burn from the antiseptic eddied and swirled down his right arm then seemed to spread throughout his body as the doctor continued to clean the abused flesh of his shoulder. But he never moved an inch, despite the agony he felt. He could feel his hold on awareness slipping and he fought tenaciously to stay conscious, gasping through the cloth clenched tightly between his teeth for every breath.

Slim watched his friend intently, flinching at the painful groan that emanated loudly around the cloth now clenched tightly in his teeth. He swallowed, helpless as he observed the knuckles on the hand gripping the edge of the table whiten as if Jess was hanging on for dear life. He prayed now that his friend would pass out, giving him some measure of relief from the pain.

As if he'd heard Slim's prayer, Jess lost his fight to stay conscious and slipped once more into the darkness, his eyes drifting slowly shut as the rest of his body went limp. For one brief moment Slim thought the worst until Jess' breathing evened out. He reached over and gently removed the cloth from the now unclenched teeth.

"Thank heavens." Doc murmured looking up as he finished cleaning the wound. Slim looked ready to pass out himself, his face as white as a sheet. "You going to be okay, son?"

"Yeah." Slim swiped a weary hand over his face.

Doc straightened, stretching his back. "Good 'cause I'm gonna need your help to keep Harper steady and hold the lamp while I stitch this closed."

"Need an extra hand?" John McCambridge asked from where he sat in one of the bent twig chairs by the fire.

Slim and Doc both turned, startled. Their concentration had been such that neither had heard the man return from taking care of the horses. Then of course Mac had made it a point of entering the ranch house quietly, seeing as Doc and Slim appeared rather busy.

Doc was the first to answer. "Yes. You can hold the lamp for me. I'd rather Slim take care of Harper." The good doctor knew that if Jess woke while he was still stitching, Slim would be the most likely to keep the man quiet. Working on a moving target would be nigh near impossible.

With his assistants set in their positions, Mac holding one of the lamps and Slim bracing the unconscious form of his friend, Doc set to work. Except for the occasional murmur to Mac to move the lamp this way or that, it was generally silent while the doctor painstakingly stitched together the abused flesh of his patient.

Jess, for his part, remained blissfully unaware of what was being done. He neither woke nor stirred as Doc put suture after suture of catgut and silk into his shoulder, a fact for which both Slim and the doctor were eternally grateful.

After what seem an eternity to Slim, Doc finished his suturing and set clean cotton padding against the repaired injury. The three men then resettled Jess on the table so Doc could tend the entry wound. The best he could do was to clean it with carbolic and then bandaged both carefully. Then he set to immobilizing the shoulder and arm to prevent the stitches from being torn out if Jess got it in his head to get too rambunctious, which was a definite possibility based on past history.

Slim and Mac were then tasked with moving the unconscious man from the living area into the bedroom and make him as comfortable as possible. Andy's bed was requisitioned for Jess' use since it was more practical than the top bunk he normally occupied. Doc followed the men, carrying a basin of cold water and clean cloths.

After Doc checked the bandages to ensure that Jess hadn't started bleeding again, he forced Mac and Slim out of the room. "I'll sit with Harper, Slim. I need to keep an eye on his fever." He placed the basin and cloths on the table next to the bed a drew up a chair. "You two best get some shut eye. I'll call if I need you." With that he summarily dismissed the men as he took hold of Jess' wrist and slipped his pocket watch out of his vest pocket.

Slim looked long and hard at the pale, still form of the man he'd come to call friend. But for the flip of a coin, one simple toss of a round piece of metal and their positions could be reversed. He could be laying in that bed instead of Jess. Shaking his head abruptly he rid himself of the could've, would've, should've's. "Let me know if you need anything, Doc. And thanks." He ducked out of the room to find Mac settled in a chair next to the fireplace, that was now burning merrily.

Stealing a glance at the clock above his desk, Slim was surprised to find that it was going on 1 am. As tired as he was, he knew it would be awhile before he could settle so he set out to put the living area back to rights, gathering Jess' discarded clothing, tossing bloodied rags into the fire. The mindless tasks afforded Slim time to think and to plan.

"Slim, why don't you set a spell." Mac suggested as he watched his young friend prowl around the room. He still had to talk to Slim, tell him that his experiment failed, again. Tell him that his men had bolted and that he was leaving.

"Uh yeah, Mac. You want some coffee?" Slim asked heading to the kitchen, forestalling the conversation that he sensed Mac wanted to have for a few moments longer.

"Sure, coffee would be good 'bout now."

Slim returned to the great room with two mugs of coffee, probably nothing more than sludge by now. But it was hot and he wanted to shake off the chill he suddenly felt at the conversation he felt looming. He handed the second mug to Mac before claiming the other chair in front of the fire.

Clasping his mug in both hands, Slim took a tentative sip and nearly spat the bitter brew on the floor. "'Been sitting on the stove a might long I'd say." Still it didn't stop him from swallowing and then taking another.

Mac tasted his own coffee. "Nah. Just the way I like it. Full of body."

Slim smiled tightly. "Any more body and it'll take the finish off the floor." He took another sip.

"Mac, what were you doing on the road this late?" Slim could no longer hold off his questions.

"Lookin' for you." Mac paused to take another swig of coffee.

"Why?"

"I was coming to say good-bye."

"Good-bye!?" Slim exclaimed in surprise, nearly spilling his coffee. Whatever he was expecting Mac to say it certainly wasn't this.

"Yeah. My men and I found the stage and the empty strong box on the road earlier this evening. They're clearing out because they figure the good people of Laramie will blame them for the robbery." Mac had slumped forward, the very picture of defeat. He rested his elbows on his knees while still cradling the coffee mug, toying with the edge of the mug with his finger.

"And you're just curling up in the corner and letting them win."

"I ain't letting them do anything. We've already been made scapegoats for one murder, what's four more. Then there's the theft of the cattle money." Mac stood abruptly and moved to the fireplace, setting the mug on the mantle. He turned toward where his young friend still sat.

"I'm tired Slim. Tired of fighting the petty people who won't give men like these a chance to become something other than what they were. Tired of having them judge us.. them for what they were. Tired of failing." Mac sighed heavily, feeling every year and every mile in his bones.

Slim wasn't quite sure what he could say that would make his friend reconsider the decision. So he chose to remain quiet, with the hiss and pop of the burning wood in the fireplace and the ticking of the clock the only sounds marring the silence of the room.

Mac waited for Slim to say something but the rancher kept his own counsel, preferring to wait out the ex-lawman.

"Well say something." Mac pressed. "I know that you think my men are responsible for the attack on that farmer, shooting Harper and stealing the cattle money."

"Now wait a minute, Mac!" Slim bristled, surging to his feet to get in the older man's face. "Don't put words in my mouth! You told me in no uncertain terms that your men were trying to go straight. I believed you then and I still believe you. Furthermore, I think I know who's been framing you and your men."

Mac stared at Slim, stunned. "What do you mean you THINK you know?"

Slim ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "The problem is Mac all I've got is a suspicion but no proof. Jess didn't see who bushwhacked him and the other men are dead so there are no witnesses."

"Well out with it man. Who's been setting us up?" Mac pressed, hope flaring within. Despite the fact his men had headed for parts unknown, he'd still like to see them exonerated.

"Nothing doing, Mac. I'm not telling you so that you can after them yourself. This is going to be done legal and proper." Slim wanted justice for the dead men and for Jess. He needed the men he suspected taken alive if they wanted any chance of recovering the stolen money.

Mac knew how stubborn and hard-headed Slim Sherman could be, after all he took after his pa, and Matthew Sherman was as bullheaded as they come. He moved past the young man to the chair he'd recently vacated and sat down. Slim followed suit and sat in the chair opposite his friend.

"You got a plan?" Mac asked as he peered at the younger man over his steepled fingers.

"Yeah I think so. It's chancey, mighty chancey, but I'm betting that I can force one of the men I suspect to tip his hand." Slim answered with a tight smile. "I could use your help, Mac."

"You got it."

"Whoa! You better wait a minute before you agree. There's a stipulation." Slim looked steadily at his friend. "If you help me, I want you to be unarmed when I confront the men I suspect. I don't want any 'accidents' from either side."

Mac spent a long moment considering Slim's request. It was unreasonable to be sure and it would leave him vulnerable if something should go wrong. And something was always bound to go wrong. He didn't like it, not at all but the stubborn look in the young rancher's eye told him that Slim wouldn't budge.

"Well I gotta tell ya, I don't like it." Mac held up his hand to prevent Slim from interrupting. "However, if you're dead set on it I guess I have to go along with it. So what do you have in mind?"

"Thanks, Mac." Slim smiled grimly. "This is what I have planned." Slim spent the next few minutes outlining what he had in mind, with Mac interjecting suggestions or comments until they had a workable plan.

"Well there's nothing more we can do until first light." Slim glanced at the clock on the wall above his desk. It was just past 1 am and he suddenly realized how tired he felt. "I don't know about you but I need some sleep. Mac, why don't you take the couch there." He gestured to the blanket covered leather sofa next to the fireplace. "I'll go check on Jess and the doc then grab some shut eye. See ya at first light."

"'Night Slim." Mac stretched tiredly before he made himself comfortable on offered couch.

Slim wearily made his way into the bedroom that he shared with Andy, Jonesy, and Jess. He entered the room to find Doc Hansen dozing in the chair where Jess' lay, the lamp turned down low. Jess himself looked like he hadn't stirred since they got him into bed. Slim stood looking at the young gun slick who'd become a friend, disturbed at the still flushed countenance and the pale skin that hid his normally healthy tan.

"He's still unconscious." Doc spoke quietly, breaking the silence of the darkened room.

"Sorry Doc. I didn't mean to wake ya." Slim apologized in an equally soft tone.

"Wasn't sleeping. Just resting my eyes." Doc stiffly got to his feet and stretched before pointing to the other side of the room, forestalling any more questions from the concerned rancher.

"Jess isn't lookin' so good, Doc." Slim ran a worried hand through his hair as he observed the still form of his friend in the narrow bed across the room.

"I know. It's blood loss, exhaustion and the time it took for help to get to him that's causing the complications. He was already feverish when we got to him and repairing the damage from the bullet hasn't helped." The older man saw the worry in the blue eyes. "The only thing we can do now is keep him quiet and comfortable. The cold compresses will help with the fever."

"Uh Doc. Is he..well will he...?" Slim stumbled over his next question, dreading the answer.

Doc hesitated a moment before answering. He was not a man that sugar coated the truth. "I'm fairly confident he'll be fine but it all depends on the next day or so. If the wounds don't fester and if he can ride out the fever."

"That's too many ifs, Doc."

"Life's full of ifs, young man and short on guarantees. I'll give Jess the best care I can but the rest is up to him and the good Lord." The good doctor said sternly. "Your worrying isn't going to help. Now I told you earlier to get some sleep. I'll wake you if I need you."

Slim looked over at Jess again, Doc Hansen's word doing little to assuage the worry he felt. He only hoped that he could get some rest before going after the men who did this and bringing them to justice.

He nodded briefly at the old sawbones. "Yeah okay. And Doc can you stay for awhile tomorrow? Mac and I have some business to take care of in town and Jess will need you to stay with him until we get back."

"Be happy to Slim, as long as you leave word in town where I'm at." Doc had been in such a rush to get ready to go with the young rancher he'd forgotten to leave word where he'd be. If somebody needed him they wouldn't know where he was.

"Sure Doc. I'll try to be back to send you back to Laramie on the afternoon stage."

Doc Hansen moved back to the bed where Jess lay to switch compresses, hoping that his efforts to cool the fevered man would keep his temperature from rising any higher.

Slim collapsed on the edge of his bunk, toed off his boots and lay back on his pillow. His mind was whirling and he didn't really expect to get sleep. He lay listening to the silence, broken now and again by the sounds of Doc replacing the compresses and the pop and crackling of burning wood from the living room.

Despite the myriad of thoughts and emotions whirling through Slim's head, the sounds of an ordinary night intruded and soon he was lulled into sleep.

* * *

A/N *Dr. Joseph Lister (1827-1912) championed antiseptic surgical procedures and use of carbolic acid to both sterilize instruments and clean wounds in 1865.

Dr. Louis Pasteur (1822-1895) his discoveries provided direct support for germ theory in medicine.

**The War of Northern Aggression was a Southern term for the American Civil War. It's use in my story is not meant as a commentary of who was right or wrong in the conflict. It is simply one of the names it was called.


	7. Chapter 7

This story is my take on what happened to Jess Harper in S1 Ep. 15, "The Night of the Quiet Men" Aired Dec. 22, 1959. Original Story by John C. Champion, Teleplay by Lee Erwin and Donn Mulally. All characters are owned by Revue Studios, maybe. I'm just borrowing them for a time, although I'd really like to take Jess Harper home.

An uneasy silence fell over the ranch house as the occupants settled, two fitful slumber, another maintaining a watchful vigil as the dark night moved inexorably toward morning. The mournful song of a lone coyote drifted in the night air as Slim tossed and turned restlessly, his dreams a tangle of disjointed and disturbing images. Though he never really woke up he also was getting very little rest.

Doc Hansen maintained his post at Jess' bedside, a silent sentinel moving only to take his patient's pulse, temperature or listen to the racing heart beat. He sponged the fevered man with cool water to chill the heated skin in an attempt to stay the ever increasing temperature. In between he'd doze lightly, never fully sleeping as he kept one ear out for signs of Jess regaining consciousness. He was all to aware of Slim's fretful sleep, the sound of his restless movements mixing with the muted snores from the next room and the soft ticking of the clock on the wall.

* * *

Jess, for a time, knew nothing after he slipped into unconsciousness. The whiskey kept his mind numb until his rising fever began to overcome the anesthetic but instead of awareness his mind became tangled in a morass of unpleasant memories as he was thrown back in time to the horrifying events that started him on the drift.

The heat in the small house was unbearable as young Jess Harper pulled on his mother's limp arm, trying in vain to get her out of the burning structure that used to be their house. The roar of the flames drowned out the screams of his sister Francie as he desperately tried to drag his mother out into the door yard.

"Ma! Ma! C'mon get up!" 15-year old Jess begged as tears ran down his face. He stubbornly ignored the bright red circle of blood that stained the front of her threadbare dress. He knew his pa was dead, the bullet hole in the middle of his forehead bore silent proof of that, but their ma had to be alive. He pulled again in desperation at the dead weight of his mother, barely moving her from where she lay, draped over the body of her husband.

"Jess! Leave her! Momma's dead! We gotta get outta here!" Francie's screams slowly penetrating the haze of grief. He felt the frantic tugging on his arm as he whipped around, his midnight blue eyes flashing angrily, to stare at his younger sister while flames licked up walls of the only home he'd ever known.

"No! She's not dead! I'm gonna get her outta here!" He jerked his arm out of her grasp, glaring at her tear stained face. "You go on, we'll be right behind you!"

The memory wavered and Francie and the baby were suddenly gone, as if they'd never been there. Instead his mother was now standing before him, the blood on her dress looking like some grotesque flower against her breast, her arms open to pull him into her loving embrace. Her once blue eyes glowed a fiery red and her hair was no longer the familiar dark brown he remembered. It burned golden orange mesmerizing him as it danced about her headlooking eerily like the flames that consumed their home. He stepped into her welcoming arms and felt the burning heat of her grasp. He started to fight the arms the held him tightly as the heat that enveloped him grew in intensity. The more he struggled the tighter he became imprisoned and when he looked up at the once familiar face, he found himself staring in horror at a charred and blackened countenance, burned beyond all recognition.

* * *

"Noooo!" He screamed fear as he fought ferociously to get loose of the arms that were now devoid of flesh. Jess fought even harder as he felt the boney arms continue to squeeze him in their vise-like grip until he ran out of strength and went limp. He took one last look at the horrible specter that embraced him and then he knew no more.

The sound of Jess' first agonized howl brought Slim awake immediately and he shot out of bed in an instant, moving quickly to Jess' bedside. Doc was already fighting to keep his delirious patient from doing himself harm as he thrashed wildly back and forth on the bed, deep in the throes of what could only be a fever induced nightmare.

"Slim! Get to the other side and hold him down!" Doc yelled desperately as he ducked a wild swing. Jess was bucking and writhing, making every effort to escape whatever it was he saw in his fevered mind. His entreaties to his ma and sister echoed through the room, giving Slim further insight into his partner's unknown past.

Slim filed away what he was hearing for further analysis as he tried desperately to pin Jess' uninjured arm and legs to the bed without hurting him. Mac appeared in the room and threw himself across Jess' legs to restrain them, leaving Slim to tighten his hold on the uninjured arm and chest. He was again shocked at the amount of heat radiating from his friend as he fought to keep Jess pinned to the mattress. With one final yell Jess went limp, his chest heaving like a bellows as he gulped air like he was drowning.

Long moments passed as Doc Hansen watched his patient's breathing settle somewhat. At the doctor's bidding both Slim and Mac cautiously relaxed the hold they had on the wounded man, half expecting Jess' delirious rantings to resume. Doc took measure of his patient's pulse and temperature, finding both still dangerously high. He put the thermometer on the beside table. "Help me sit him up. I need to check his shoulder." The doctor directed brusquely, hiding his increasing concern behind the gruff request.

Slim stepped forward and carefully moved his friend's limp form into a sitting position while Doc efficiently examined the shoulder under the bandages. He let out audible sigh as he gestured to Slim that he could lay the unconscious man back. "The sutures held." He took a kerchief out of his pocket and wiped at the accumulated perspiration on his brow with an unsteady hand as he contemplated his unconscious patient.

"Slim we have to get Jess' fever down, get it to break. His temperature is dangerously high, his heart is racing much too fast and now this delirium. Sponging him down is simply not working." Doc frowned as he picked up the thermometer that he'd discarded, peering at it as if he couldn't believe what it was telling him.

"How about the tub we use for bathing.? We could fill it with cool water and put him in it." Slim suggested, staring at his dark haired friend. The prone figure appeared still as death but for the gasping breaths as he gulped air.

"No, no it'll take to long to fill the barrel." Doc dismissed the idea with the wave of a hand. "We need to get him cooled down sooner rather than later."

John McCambridge stood stroking his chin with his hand, an air of contemplation about him. "How about we dunk him in a horse trough? The one outside by the corral is mostly filled, probably still a little warm from the sunshine we had today though."

Doc hesitated for a moment, considering the marshal's suggestion. "That just might work. We don't want the water too cold at first, it would be too much of a shock to his heart. But if we pump cooler water in a little at a time, that just might do the trick."

With the decision made, the doctor began to issue orders as he fetched a kerosene lantern from the great room, lighting it while he directed the two men to use the sheet off the mattress to transport the stricken cowboy outside to the waiting water trough.

The three men trooped quickly out of the ranch house through the door yard to the horse trough near the corral. All considered it a blessing that Jess remained quiet as they toted him across the testing the temperature of the water, Doc deemed it adequate and signaled the two men to proceed.

Lifting the unconscious man carefully, still cradled in the sheet, Slim and Mac gently eased him into water, legs first. "Try to keep that shoulder dry." Doc ordered as they slowly immersed Jess in the tepid water. After some awkward maneuvering, Slim found himself on his knees in the muddy ground next to the trough supporting his unconscious friend, trying to do as Doc asked.

After a few minutes Slim was surprised when Doc asked Mac to pull the drain plug to let water level drop an inch or two. He questioned the doctor about the purpose for draining the trough.

"We're not draining the trough, Slim." Doc replied patiently. "I'm just letting enough water out to replace it with cooler water from the pump. We have to keep the water cool to help break the fever." He nodded to the older man, who replaced the plug and began to work the pump handle to fill the trough again while Doc took his rolled up his sleeve to mix the cooler water with the warmer.

This process was repeated several more times during the next hour, with the doctor monitoring Jess' temperature and heart rate closely. As the minutes crawled on fatigue began pull at Slim as he held fast to his friend. Despite the buoyancy of the water, holding on to the limp man to keep the wounded shoulder dry was a strain on the young rancher.

"Want me to hold him for awhile?" Mac offered as he observed the lines of perspiration that streaked the face and dampened the shirt of his young friend, despite the chill of the night air.

"Naw I'm good." Slim returned as he felt another bead of moisture track down between his aching shoulders. He was loathe to leave Jess in the care of anyone else at the moment. He bent his head to wipe the side of his face on his shirt sleeve. He slanted a look up at Doc, who was trying to read the thermometer by the feeble light emitted by the lantern. "Any change, Doc?"

"I think it's working Slim!" The good doctor exclaimed as he squinted again at the stick of glass in his hand. "His temperature is down considerably."

As the doctor made his pronouncement Slim felt Jess begin to stir feebly. His movements sluggish, though he didn't seem to be fighting the hold that Slim had on him. "Easy Jess, I got ya, Pard." He murmured quietly into his friend's ear.

"Doc, I think he's waking up." Slim turned his attention back to Jess when he felt his friend shudder in the chilled water. "He's beginning to shiver."

"Quickly. Get him out of the water and into the house. We need to get him dry and warm. It won't do now for him to get too chilled." Doc urged as Slim and Mac scrambled to do his bidding, hefting the limp cowboy between them in the now soaked bed sheet and headed across the yard back to the house, Doc Hansen lighting their way.

Jess felt more than heard the rumble of a voice as he slowly clawed his way back to conscious thought. At first the voices were merely noise that buzzed relentlessly in his exhausted and muddled mind. Gradually he began to make out the odd word or two but they made little sense to him. He should have been worried but it was the sound of one voice that struck a chord with him. He had come to trust it and he knew that he was in no danger, that the owner of the voice had his back.

With sound came pain, deep, burning that seemed to ebb and flow with the measured beat of his heart. His whole body ached but it was worse in his right shoulder, like he'd been shot but that couldn't be, could it? He frantically wracked his brain for the memory but it remained stubbornly elusive.

Then his mind processed the realization that he was floating, a not an altogether unpleasant sensation. Then his mind put the pieces together and he realized that he was floating in water. He was strangely unafraid, now aware of the heavy sensation that seem to be wrapped tightly around his upper chest, holding him, keeping his head above water. He didn't like the feeling of being restrained though and tried to push at whatever it was that had him pinned, to no avail, he just didn't seem to have the strength.

Then the heaviness in his chest left and he felt his body lift and he tried in vain to force his eyes open, trying to make sense of what was happening to him. He felt the chill of the air as he continued to try and get a look at where he was but his feverish night and general exhaustion had left him with few reserves. Despite his desire otherwise, he slipped slowly into a deep and dreamless sleep.


End file.
